


Fear to Tread

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Everyone dies. Gotcha!





	Fear to Tread

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Fear To Tread by Halrloprillalar

DISTRIBUTION: OK for Archive/X & the Socks Shoppe. Elsewhere by permission. Email forwarding OK.  
RATING: Slash, PG13  
SPOILERS: None  
SUMMARY: Skinner/Pendrell. Everyone dies. Gotcha!  
NOTA BENE: The chronology is a little tricky here. I'm posting on the holidays as they occur in 1998/99 but writing about them in 1996/97. Well, Easter is a movable feast and this year it's after April 1. In 97, it was before April 1. If trying to figure this out makes you queasy, drink some ginger ale.  
DISCLAIMER: Skinner, Pendrell, and the X-Files are owned by Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox.  
MORE FIC: http://come.to/prillalar  
April 1999

* * *

Fear To Tread  
by Halrloprillalar <>

April Fool's Day

The alarm rang and Skinner rolled over to turn it off. 6:15 and the sun shone cheerfully through the half-opened curtains. Plenty of time to get up and get ready for work. Except...he was still at Pendrell's. It didn't take long for the sleep to clear and give him access to memories of Easter weekend, extra days off work, and being made to eat far, far too much candy. Back to normal today.

6:15 and he'd better enjoy the morning sun now before they sprang forward into a few more weeks of getting up to predawn greyness. 6:17, now, actually. It felt later, somehow. So bright.

Damn. April 1st. He checked his watch, but it agreed with the clock. Daniel could have changed his watch though. Heading out in just his boxers, he shivered a little in the dim, fish-lit living room. The TV listing channel told him it was 6:19 and after suffering through the last half of "She's Having My Baby," he heard the radio announcer concur that it was 6:23.

OK, so Daniel hadn't changed his clock. In the bathroom, Skinner carefully lifted the toilet seat. No toothpaste, no Saran Wrap. He flushed gingerly. No torrents of water or mountains of foam. Cautiously, he started the shower and waited to see if it would run red or smell like chicken bouillon or deliver only cold water, but it was normal. Sniffing the soap only made his eyes water and the stripe he tested on his arm was squeaky clean. Was it the shampoo? It looked fine and smelled fine, so he tried it. It was fine.

In front of the mirror, Skinner wiped a spot clear and checked to be sure his skin hadn't turned a funny colour. Not so far. Squeezing out some toothpaste, he tasted a small bit on the end of his tongue. No spices, no salt, nothing but the fresh taste of spearmint. Dammit, when was the axe going to fall? His nerves were entirely too wracked already and it was only...6:45. Shit, all the precautions were making him late. He should have just gone home last night. Well, maybe not. He fingered a few entirely appropriate marks just below his collarbone. A dozen peeps and Daniel turned into an animal. Hopefully he could find some still on sale.

Brushing, gargling, shaving -- just like every other day, except for a small nick below his jaw. He winced at the styptic pencil, then slapped on his aftershave. Oh no, he'd forgotten to check it first. But nothing untoward happened.

He could hear the coffee maker gurgling when he opened the door and he cursed himself for not putting it on before his shower. Who knew what Daniel had done to it? And there was the man himself, leaning against the wall, eyes tight shut, hair sticking up all over.

"Morning, Daniel."

"Hrmrlgf." Pendrell sounded surlier than usual this morning. A sugar hangover? Was there such a thing? Skinner stepped aside to let him into the bathroom.

As he dressed, Skinner kept an eye out for hidden pins, chalked designs, or mysterious spots. There were none, but he did note that the lining in his pocket was starting to wear through.

In the kitchen, Pendrell was already sitting at the table with coffee and cereal, still in his bathrobe, but with wet-head instead of bed-head. Leaning in to kiss his cheek, Skinner was rewarded with a very small smile.

"Morning, Walter." Daniel yawned hugely and slurped his coffee.

"You're eating shredded wheat?" Skinner got out a mug and carefully rinsed it under the tap. But first he let the tap run for a moment.

"I'm never going to eat any more sugar ever again as long as I live." Pendrell took a bite and grimaced. "I think I had enough over the weekend to last the next five years."

Pouring a bit of coffee into the mug, Skinner swirled it, then took a small sip. So far, so good. He filled it up. "No more sugar? No more chocolate? No more licorice? No more peeps?"

"Especially no more peeps."

Damn, there went that idea. Skinner treated a bowl to the same careful scrutiny, then sat down at the table. If Pendrell was eating the shredded wheat, it should be safe. But Pendrell never ate shredded wheat. So, it could be a trap. Or maybe he really was sick of all the sugar. Skinner stalled by drinking more coffee.

"Aren't you eating breakfast, Skipper?"

The instinct to avoid showing weakness won out and Skinner poured the shredded wheat. He sniffed the milk surreptitiously before adding it.

"Isn't it fresh? I just bought it on Thursday." Daniel looked right at him, blue eyes piercing. Skinner met his gaze, refusing to back down.

"I'm sure it's fine." He crunched up a mouthful. It was fine. It was disappointing.

 Pendrell unfolded the paper and scanned the headlines. "Taxes going down? Census form getting shorter? The Dow Jones dropping?" Absently, he ate more cereal, then stared at the spoon. Pushing away the bowl, he leafed through the pages. "They can't spoof us with such obviously false stories."

"Those aren't false."

"Sure, and next you'll be telling me the moon landings weren't faked."

"Daniel, I saw them on TV."

"You saw them. I didn't. But I did see Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea."

A muffled beeping made Skinner look up from his bowl. His car alarm. He sneaked a quick look at Daniel. Unperturbed. Was this it? Daniel raised his eyes and Skinner quickly looked away. This was it. All he had to do was sit through it.

"That was a movie, Professor."

"I saw it on TV. You saw the moon landings on TV. They probably wished DeMille was still alive so he could direct them."

The beeping continued through its cycle, then started again. Skinner knew his jaw muscles were twitching and tried to keep them still. "I never figured you for some sort of conspiracy theorist."

"Too much Illuminati with my RPG group, I suppose. It's a mad house! A mad house!"

Now the alarm stopped. Skinner relaxed a bit. Then it started again. No, this one was different. Pendrell's car. Daniel gave him a look but Skinner remained stoic. "A planet where gamers evolved from men?"

A real smile from Pendrell this time. "You mean you actually saw that? I'll take it off my list of 'movies to force Walter to watch'."

"And replace it with something much worse?" The whoop-whooping died off and for awhile there was silence inside and out. Skinner took a bite of shredded wheat. He almost choked on it when his alarm and Pendrell's laugh went off at the same time. "What is it, Daniel?"

"The comics..." Pounding the table in his mirth, Pendrell tried to catch his breath. "You have to see...Family Circus."

"Family Circus is causing you to have hysterics? Forgive me if I'm skeptical." Pendrell didn't answer, just passed over the paper. Family Circus wasn't really very funny at all. But it did look kind of odd.

"I don't get it."

"Walter, look at who drew it."

"Scott Adams. Okay, I know he's not the usual guy."

"You are impossible. Scott Adams draws Dilbert. Bil Keane draws Family Circus. Today they switched. And if you don't know who Dilbert is, then you deserve all the cartoons that are probably hanging up in the JEH with your name inked in under the pointy-haired boss."

Skinner had a retort to this, a good one, for sure, just a second and he'd have it. Then Pendrell's alarm whoop-whooped to life again. Daniel sighed. "Walter, can we just chalk one up to you and stop the alarm thing?"

"Me?" Uh-oh.

"I thought it was your April Fool's joke." Pendrell looked at Skinner.

Skinner looked back. "I thought it was yours." Then they jumped up and ran for the driveway.

Both cars were there, apparently untouched. Pendrell circled his pride and joy, meticulously examining the paint for scratches. He got too close and the alarm went off again.

"Batmobile still pristine?" Skinner raised his voice above the noise. At least his alarm wasn't quite so annoying. At least he knew enough not to set it off. It went off. He wasn't anywhere near it. "Daniel, do you swear you're not doing this?" Both alarms pulsed, but not quite in sync. It grated at Skinner's already shredding nerves.

"No, it's not me." Daniel wrapped his arms around his torso as the wind picked up. "Low batteries maybe?"

"Neighbourhood kids?"

"Strange changes in the earth's magnetic field?"

"Factory defects?"

Lucy walked out from under Skinner's car. Tail held high, limping stiffly, looking very smug. Lucy. The men's eyes met.

"Do you think...?" Pendrell asked.

"Maybe by accident..."

Lucy flicked them both a disdainful glance and began to wash herself in their general direction.

"No accident. Definitely no accident." Pendrell scooped her up. "Into the house with you, young lady. You're not supposed to be out until your leg is better."

As they trooped back in, Skinner started to laugh. All the tension was swirling away and he laughed and laughed until he saw Daniel staring at him. "It's just..." Why did he have to explain himself? "I spent all morning worrying about pranks. I checked everything in case you'd sabotaged it. And you didn't do anything." The laughter calmed into a smile. "I'm glad. I don't think I could take any more."

Pendrell stroked Lucy, cuddling her under his chin. "I'm a little more sophisticated than stupid frosh tricks, I hope." The corners of his mouth quirked into a grin. "But when we get to work, you might want to let me fix your computer before you try to use it."

"What did you do to it?" The twitch was back in Skinner's jaw.

"Not much. Five minutes and you won't know the difference." Setting Lucy down gently, Pendrell stretched. "And speaking of work, I have to get dressed." He left for the bedroom.

Skinner went to the kitchen for a last cup of coffee. He'd make sure Pendrell fixed his computer all right. And he'd make sure he was safely in a meeting when Pendrell got to his own office and found the balloons...

F I N I S

Don't prank me, just feed me. :) 


End file.
